


Scars

by ruric



Category: Leverage
Genre: Community: comment_fic, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-14 18:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most people he's met are shy about their scars. Then again <i>most</i> people aren't Eliot Spencer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars

_Deep wounds leave scars, boy_ …that's what Alec's grandma used to say and when grandma spoke Alec listened.

Most people he's met are shy about their scars. 

They hide them away under long sleeves and high necks, under scarves and hats, women wear trousers rather than skirts, use creams and make up to make them shrink and fade and be less obvious. Most people see them as something to be ashamed of, as disfigurements, ruining forever what was there before.

Then again _most_ people aren't Eliot Spencer.

Alec had never met anyone who got so much _joy_ in showing off those scars 'til he met Eliot. 

When they ran into Marcus Stark and his merry band, Alec had felt something he hadn't for a long time. 

He felt it in his fingers and through the keyboard and in the way they were having to jump and scramble to stay ahead. He felt it as his screen pixilated and faded, as sweat trickled down his back. The unfamiliar feeling of challenge and competition sped his pulse as he took countermeasure after countermeasure to battle the attacks Chaos had thrown at him. But Alec doesn't like losing any more than Eliot or Parker does. 

They'd almost met their matches.

He feels it again, propping up the bar – the hum of conversation and chink of glasses rising around him – whiskey burning his tongue and throat and settling warm in his belly.

The warmth of the liquor is nothing compared to the way Eliot's watching the Israeli chick, Mikel, Eliot's counterpart in the other team and Marcus's muscle. Alec knows only too well the predatory look narrowing Eliot's eyes – boy's seen something he wants and God help anyone who gets in his way.

He lets his gaze drift over to the booth where Eliot and Mikel are engaged in a fiercely whispered argument. One that gets a little louder – at least as far as people like them _ever_ get loud - as more drinks are consumed.

And he might be eavesdropping just a little but he can't help catching the odd word, even as they switch languages to try to hide what they're saying. He can at least pick out some of the gunshot swift exchanges of place names that's going on.

"Sremska Mitrovica?" asks Eliot.

Mikel snorts and Alec recognizes contempt.

It's like listening to a tennis game played with the names of cities and countries – some he's familiar with and some not – but there's a commonality of understanding in their rapid fire exchange. They're talking the same coded language and have an understanding of how bad and how messy it can get. 

"Lao Cai?" she shoots back.

Eliot answers with a cut off "Da" and Alec sees Mikel nod her head, her fingers snaking out to curl around Eliot's.

Alec takes another long drink and glances over his shoulder to where Apollo and Parker are busy doing...whatever the hell it is they're doing with the bits and pieces scattered all over their table, and then checks his watch because right about now...if everything is going according to plan...Chaos should be getting a nasty little surprise.

Alec grins to himself cause payback sure can be a bitch.

His attention is drawn back to Eliot's booth, Mikel's fingers tracing the scar that runs from palm of Eliot's hand, around his thumb to finish at his wrist. It's old, pale and faded and he hears her ask softly "Knife?"

"Nah – glass. I got a better knife scar..."

"You showed me already," she interrupts and Eliot laughs low and deep. 

"I can top that," and she pulls her shirt away from her shoulder, "fire grenade, Somalia."

Alec recognizes when a gauntlet's been thrown down and he doubts that Eliot's ever been the kind of guy to refuse a challenge. 

Sure enough Eliot's tugging his shirt up his arm, and a man would have to be blind not to see the appreciation in Mikel's eyes as Eliot flexes a muscle and deadpans "Myanmar. Sniper."

Alec knows right then he's going home alone because if they've got to the point where they're competitively comparing scars like it's an Olympic sport? The night's pretty much over – but Alec has what Eliot calls his "geek squad" on speed dial and there's a couple of games he's been sorely neglecting over the last few weeks. 

Mikel's a much better match for Eliot than Chaos was for Alec, maybe even than Apollo is for Parker.

"I was a sniper in Myanmar for a while," she says.

"When?" Eliot shoots back.

"2003."

That seems to bring Eliot up short for all of 2 or 3 seconds and Alec's pushing away from the bar cause he knows Eliot's not going to let a _tiny_ little thing like an attempted kill shot spoil his night. Mikel's digging under the table for something, fall of dark hair obscuring her face for a second.

Alec walks over to where they're sitting, laughing when Mikel dangles the handcuffs from her thumb. Eliot's hands cover hers pushing them down to the table and Alec gets to their booth just in time to catch Eliot's blush and frantically whispered "No. No. Be careful."

"Handcuffs, y'all are nasty," Alec murmurs unable to resisting teasing and grinning wider as Eliot's blush deepens. 

Mikel - feral, dangerous, lethal, beautiful Mikel – just arches an eyebrow, glances down at the shine of metal on the table that Eliot's trying to push out of the way and sends him a grin that's pure wickedness and full of promise.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hours later Alec's woken by Eliot's raspy whispered "lights" and the room's bathed in a soft golden glow.

They had to have a dual system installed - voice activated for Alec and switches for Eliot – cause as Eliot pointed out if they ever have "an ingress situation" the last thing he wants to be doing is asking a god damned computer to turn the lights on or off.

They've also got an agreement that when Eliot comes back late he makes _some_ noise after he damn near scared Alec into his third heart attack in 10 days by sneaking into the bedroom on cat light feet at ridiculously early hours of the morning. On the night's when Alec is the one coming back late he clatters around loud enough to wake the dead having once snapped Eliot out of a deep sleep only to find himself at the end of a very long, very sharp, very _pointed_ knife.

Eliot's got a shit-eating fucked-out grin on his face, sure enough he's the cat that not only got the cream but the canary as well, his eyes are a little unfocused and he's toeing off his boots, leaving a trail of discarded clothes – jacket, shirt, t-shirt, jeans and finally that wool hat which seems permanently glued to his head - from the bedroom door to the bed. 

Alec huffs a soft sigh. Eliot might keep the kitchen pristine but the rest of his housekeeping habits leave a lot to be desired. 

Eliot slides between the sheets, skin as warm as ever, leg thrown over Alec's hips, arm across his chest claiming territory to which he feels entitled – which also happens to include about 90% of their king sized bed.

"Good night?"

"Yeah."

Eliot's answer is sleepy and satiated.

"Get to show off your scars?"

Alec's not prying, really he's not.

Eliot shifts a little closer, his chin brushing Alec's shoulder, slightly slurred words breathed into his ear. 

"Only the most obvious ones."

One long soft exhalation and he's gone, breathing slow and deep as he slips into sleep. Sometimes Alec envies Eliot his ability to just hit the kill switch and sleep. He makes it look so very easy. 

But then again Alec's been here for those _other_ nights. 

The ones where he's woken to find the bed empty, the sheets sweat drenched and Eliot sitting out on the roof staring sightlessly into the night sky or, those rarer occasions when he can feel the frantic hammer of Eliot's heart through his chest, feel the tremors shake his muscles and listen to ragged, panted breaths.

" _Deep wounds leave scars boy...and you need to understand not all of them are visible on your skin._ " 

Wise old woman his grandma, cause Alec has the stories behind each and every one of the scars Eliot carries, both the visible and the unseen.


End file.
